


Heaven Is A Place Upon Your Skin

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tieing ties can be more difficult than one would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Is A Place Upon Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/gifts).



'Don't see why we 'ave to dress up for this,' Gene grumbled, looking down himself with a pout that was nothing short of impressive.

 

Sam turned away with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, reaching for the bottle of aftershave. He'd not yet put on his shirt (Gene had dismissed each of his choices so far and Sam had gotten annoyed, so he'd delayed that), and as such looked somewhat misplaced next to his DCI, who was already very nearly done, save for the tie.

 

Outside, snowflakes were lazily tumbling past the window – it was cold, even for a December night in Manchester. What this meant, of course, was that they'd have to put on extra layers, and that it would get very hot at the party, and that afterwards they'd be all the more cold.

 

And that Gene would consume extra amounts of alcohol, naturally.

 

Sam wouldn't mind the preparations and the pre-Christmas party themselves, really, seeing as it should make a welcome change to the usual evenings of binge-drinking at the Arms. However, with Gene's complaining about the event for days already, it had pulled down Sam's own mood considerably.

 

Which was why his reply came out a little sharper than it probably should have: 'It's etiquette. Won't hurt to look your best once in a while.'

 

'Oi!'

 

Sam looked up to see Gene glaring at him in the mirror, such a perfect image of indignation that he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

 

'The Manc Lion always looks his best, you cheeky sod!'

 

'Really? Last week when it was raining you looked more like a sodden kitten to me.'

 

Sam turned around as Gene advanced on him, opening his mouth to tease him some more, but then instead gave a surprised yelp as Gene's hand landed on top of his head and gave his hair a good old ruffle.

 

'An' you look like a hedgehog with that silly hair o' yours.'

 

'Gene-- will you-- Christ, would you leave that alone!'

 

Too late – his hair was mussed up beyond hope now, and Sam's glowering merely got him a triumphant grin from Gene in return, who turned away to go and look for a tie. Well, at least his mood had improved, which Sam supposed was something. He smoothed his hair back down as best as he could before joining Gene by the wardrobe, starting his search for a shirt anew.

 

'Still don't see what's so bad about the dark red one – I thought you liked it!'

 

'I do. Don't see why I should share that pleasure with others, though.'

 

Unperturbed by Sam staring at him (he didn't like the way his face was growing hot), Gene pulled out a tie Sam had never seen in his life, and hopefully never would have to again.

 

'Oh Jesus, no, you're not wearing that.'

 

'You what? What's wrong with it?'

 

'...Everything. What colour  _is_ that even?'

 

Gene huffed. 'Well, I'm sorry it doesn't match your poncey tastes and expectations, Gladys!'

 

'Says the one who won't let me wear a perfectly sensible shirt.'

 

'There is  _nothing_ sodding sensible about flowers all over--'

 

The rest of sentence was drowned by the kiss Sam planted on Gene's lips. A sound of surprise, and then Gene was kissing back, making Sam grin before he pulled away.

 

'Sorry. That pout's just... irresistible.'

 

Gene snorted, but leaned in once more to place a quick peck to the corner of Sam's mouth. 'Just don't want anyone getting ideas,' he muttered against Sam's skin, kissing his cheek. That made Sam chuckle – they had this conversation quite often, and he knew exactly what 'ideas' Gene was referring to, but tonight Sam wasn't in the mood to remind him of how he was well able to look after himself.

 

Instead, he reached past Gene, decisively pulling out one of his more muted ties, dangling it in front of Gene's nose.

 

'Here, wear this one. It's nice, classy, and there's paisley on it – should make everyone happy. Now come on, we shouldn't be late.'

 

To his mild surprise, Gene didn't protest, instead taking the tie and stepping over to the mirror, while Sam continued his search for a shirt that would satisfy them both. And he found it quickly enough – the simple black one with just a few pinstripes to it. Simple, yet classy, just like Gene's tie. The thought made Sam grin as he did up the last of his buttons and turned around, just to see that his partner was still fiddling with the knot.

 

'Forgotten how to do your tie, Gene?'

 

'Shut it,' Gene muttered, craning his neck and then cursing softly as the cloth slipped free once more. Sam frowned; usually, this was a matter of seconds, and Gene was anything but drunk, so...

 

Gene caught Sam's gaze in the mirror and gave a grumbling sigh. 'Wanted to do summat different for a change. Y'know, tying that thing.'

 

Oh.  _Oh_ . Sam's eyebrows shot up in understanding – the other day, he'd overheard Chris telling Ray about a book he'd found at his parents', detailing the exact steps to tie approximately fifty different tie knots. Ray had laughed at him (to be fair, the result of Chris' first attempt had looked more like a noose than a Windsor knot), and Sam hadn't even realised that Gene had been listening in on the conversation as well. Now, however, the memory along with Gene's fruitless fumbling made him smile as he moved up to his partner, tapping his shoulder.

 

'C'mon, let me have a look.'

 

Gene did as he was told, eyes still locked on the tie as Sam took a hold of both ends, holding them up.

 

'How d'you want it, simple and fancy or elaborate and fancy?'

 

All he received in reply was a skeptical pout.

 

'… let's go for the Windsor, then.'

 

'Oh no no no, you're not making me look like a southern sissy.'

 

Sam rolled his eyes. 'That's just its name, you moron. I'm guessing a Pratt is out of the question then as well.'

 

'You what?!'

 

'Thought so. Hmm... How about an Eldredge? Might take a while, though.'

 

'Y'know, I really shouldn't be surprised over your extensive knowledge of this, but...'

 

'I'm a ponce, yes, so you said. Hold still.'

 

It had been quite a while since Sam last wore a tie – and even longer yet since he'd last made the effort to make it look properly fancy (Maya had thought it terribly vain, so Sam had eventually stopped coming up with new ways to tie his tie) – but eventually (and in fact a little faster even than Sam had thought), he pulled the silk through one last loop, fastened it, and then gave the knot a pat.

 

'There you go.'

 

The way Gene tried to eye Sam's handiwork by just looking down and tucking in his chin as far as it would go made Sam grin, and he gave Gene's nose a quick peck before gently turning him around to face the mirror. A moment of silence, a scrutinising gaze – and Gene nodded, his pout this time being one of the satisfied sort.

 

'Not too poncey, then?' Sam teased, tugging at Gene's shoulder to get him to look back at him.

 

'Surprisingly enough, no!' Knowing that this would be the closest he'd get to a compliment, Sam laughed and put his hand on Gene's to stop him from fiddling with the knot.

 

'No worries, it won't come undone. Not that easily anyway.'

 

Gene looked up, and something in his gaze gave Sam pause.

 

'Oh aye?'

 

'… yeah. Made sure of that.'

 

Gene's hand was still on the knot, and Sam's on top of Gene's. He curled his fingers, tightening his grip. Staring into Gene's eyes – so green, how was that even possible? – Sam leaned in, marginally, and his heart started to beat harder when he realised Gene was doing the same...

 

'Listen, I hate breaking up this mildly erotic moment, but the invitation explicitly said not to be late.'

 

Sam flinched and his head snapped around – and then his eyes went wide at the sight of Annie, because  _ Christ, what a sight _ . She had one hand high up on the door frame, half-leaning against it, head tilted to the side ever so slightly, her eyes twinkling as she smiled at them both. It was that smile Sam's eyes inevitably got drawn back to, but that didn't mean that he missed out on just how gorgeous she looked in that dress she was wearing. Considering this was the mid-70s it was a fairly simplistic one – a deep blue with a faintly shimmering floral pattern emerging from the bottom and petering off to the side. He and Gene had chosen it for her after a long and painful search (literally; they'd gotten into a scrap discussing their choices at one point), and in Sam's opinion Annie didn't wear it nearly often enough.

 

They both must've been staring at her for quite a while, because she huffed a laugh and stepped away from the door.

 

'What? Cat got your tongue?'

 

Sam shook his head, still marvelling. 'You look gorgeous.'

 

She laughed again, looking off to the side, and finally Sam let go of Gene, and they both stepped out of each others' personal space, the latter picking up his suit jacket and shrugging into it.

 

Annie glanced back at them, that cheeky glint still in her eyes.

 

'Ready to go, then?'

**Author's Note:**

> See fern_tree's gorgeous [artwork](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2604383.html) that goes with this fic!
> 
> Part 2 - [Dust Yourself Of Fingerprints And Grin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2180313) \- was written by talkingtothesky, it follows on directly from where I left off.
> 
> Title inspired by I Am Kloot's "Fingerprints".


End file.
